


The Asphodel Meadows

by Feylore, lorefey



Category: Ancient Egyptian Religion, From Hell
Genre: Action, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Religious, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Angst, Angst and Romance, Character Death, Death, Drama Llama, Exorcisms, Fictional Religion & Theology, Gods, How Do I Tag, I Made Myself Cry, Major Original Character(s), Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Other, POV First Person, POV Original Character, Rituals, Sorry Not Sorry, Unrequited Love, Variations on Ancient Egyptian Religion, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?, Winchester Luck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-04-21 12:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14284524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feylore/pseuds/Feylore, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorefey/pseuds/lorefey
Summary: "Vade retro, Satana," he said with a shiver down his voice and throat. The demon laughs, "I never thought I'd live to see the chosen one myself."Ketil Finningham is the chosen one. At least, that's what the demon told him after he almost died during an exorcism. Armed with his wits and a hand vacuum, he makes his way through gods, seraphim, and demons and his roommate definitely isn't helping.Seth Mellis is his roommate. He's very, very tired. Especially now, when Ketil emerges as the chosen one.«Chapters are up twice every month, thank you for reading!»





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hihi we're newbies, but this is a collection of what we see Ancient Egypt (and other religions, probably) as in our minds through various characters. We're also cousins, so we feel the pain lol

My eyes start to sting at the sight of the sceptre of Was. The gold of his mask start to blind me as I get closer towards him, the Sphinx of Oedipus stood behind him like a loyal guard should. The empty lines that make the symbol of Osiris meet my burnt sienna-emerald eyes, so alive.

I find the light in the beautiful sea, but I couldn't choose to be happy about it.


	2. Time of the Season

The alarm clock is the first thing we hear in the morning. Wakes us up with a jolt. A reminder that you had a life you didn't like to live. 

I open my eyes and my ears were fully connected to my brain once more to the dreadful noise my alarm clock makes every morning next to my bedside. As I reach out and tap the snooze button, I feel Grýla, our cat, climbing up on my bed sheets. I sigh nonchalantly and drop my head back on the pillow; it's going to be an exhausting day.

Grýla walks smoothly up on to my chest and starts meowing. Oh lord, she's hungry.

"I know, I know. You hear my alarm clock and it's like your routine to get me out of bed for your food. Wait 'till I get dressed, okay?" Grýla meows loudly. 

She's a small cat, that one. Half munchkin to explain her petite-ness, half Norwegian Forest to explain her long hair. Although, I start to question what she really is because she eats a lot. That cat is like a morphing black hole. I hesitantly get up from my bed and walk over to the closet to prepare my clothes for the day to use after I shower.

I grab my towel and walk into the living room since the bathroom was across my room, and the living room being right in the middle of it. As I walk on by, I spot the sofa. Nothing wrong with it, just a mop of black hair sticking out.

"Seth, wake up. You've a room and a bed for a reason."

Said person merely mumbles a "yeah" and snores himself back to sleep. I walk into the bathroom and took a casual shower, nothing out of the ordinary happens. I finish showering and go back to my room, Seth still lying on the sofa, his arm now fully exposed.

My name is Ketil Finningham and I'm almost 25 years old, and the man we just observed on the sofa snoring away was my flatmate, Seth Mellis. He's my age, although I don't think he has a job at all, so it makes me wonder what has him downright exhausted every night. I know he doesn't go to pubs, he's quite a light drinker. And I know he doesn't go out with women at night.

I should know. He broke up with a girl once and it had him downright broken-hearted. He told me he didn't want to experience anything of the sort ever again, so he just stopped seeing other women. Maybe he rides his bicycle to give it some use. To stare at the Big Ben, no? Whatever he does, I don't mind a bit as long as he's home safe. 

He and I are like an inseparable duo.

I get dressed, my black button up t-shirt perfectly buttoned and not a crease was to be found. I wear black trousers and my Oxford branded shoes. Dramatic. But classy. I enter the kitchen since Grýla was riding my tailcoat to get some food, I start to wonder if I even fed her last night. I take out the can of cat food, mix it with the leftover rice from last night's takeout and feed Grýla.

I grab my briefcase and wrote down a note for Seth to let him know that I borrowed his bicycle. I took his keys to unchain the bicycle and my copy of the key to the flat. As I grab my coat off the coat rack, I accidentally pulled it toward me and caused it to fall.

I hear a groan from the living room. "Ket, I know you're clumsy, but really? Its literally 7 in the morning. Shhh," he hissed and violently covers his face with a pillow from the sofa. Oh, now, he wakes up.

"I pray you have a good morning, Seth," I sigh and have the coat rack standing once more before leaving. I take Seth's bicycle, as I mentioned before, mainly because the chain of my bicycle ended up tangled up to the point of being broken and I hadn't any money to fix it, so.

As I approach Seth's bicycle, which is parked in the flat's carpark, I spot a hand vacuum in the bicycle's basket. "Strange, I wonder what he does with this?" I think to myself, since neither of us own a car or have the use for a hand vacuum as we already got a vacuum cleaner. I figure that I'd ask him about it later when I get home from work, but I have to rush now since it's past the usual time for me to leave home to work, so I'll just take it with me.

Seth and I reside in London, that's why I mentioned the Big Ben earlier. We live close to one of the most famous Catholic churches in London, the church of St Aidan of Lindisfarne. A fifteen-minute cycle away from the flat. It's convenient, considering the fact that I work there, acting as head priest for the moment since the Vatican had the original head priest on a trip to Brazil for awhile due to classified reasons.

"Good morning, Sister Evelyn," I greet Sister Evelyn with the smoothest smile I could muster, and she smiles back warmly at me, greeting me back, her voice as smooth as a dove's singing voice, "Good morning, Father Finn. How are you?"

"Seth's had another night out, doing Lord knows what, I feel okay, Sister Evelyn," I say as I look up, doing the sign of the cross. "I'm sure he means no harm, Father. Oh, and, Sister Cathy was looking for you. I hear the Vatican's paired you up with her for a job just uptown," she says, looking around warily for Sister Cathy, as if she were to be smacked at the back of her head for just mentioning her name.

"I forgot about that. Call her up for me and tell her I'll be riding up to the Prestons to start the blessing of the house as soon as possible," I tell Sister Evelyn, whose hair is sticking out a little, just next to her left eye. She nods and starts to look for Sister Cathy. I get on the bicycle, wary of the hand vacuum Seth left in the basket. It leaves me puzzled as to why he has such an item. I kick off the stopper, almost accidentally falling from the sudden unbalanced weight, but I catch myself and wheeze out a sigh. 

I make my way to the Prestons for an exorcism.

The ding on the Prestons' doorbell has a loud echo. The door was of dark oak, the wood seems over a hundred years of age and it doesn't pain me to say that the house was already history. An adult man greets me, his face scrunched up with wrinkles, seeming very calm but in a very nervous state. "You must be Father Finningham," he holds out his hand for me to shake, "I'm Gerald Preston. Please," he steps aside for me to see that I'm welcome inside the home of the Prestons, "come in."

"Thank you, Mr. Preston," he starts to walk ahead, but before I could even step inside, I couldn't help but shake the feeling of Seth's hand vacuum just sitting outside on public roads in the basket. I fear he may just yell at me for losing it. I grab the hand vacuum, make sure the chain is securely locked on Seth's bicycle and walk in the Preston household.

"So, Mr. Preston. If you don't mind, while we wait for my assistant, as Sister Cathy is on her way here, I'll start off with the blessing of the house." 

"Of course," Gerald Preston gapes for a moment from saying that. I lay my briefcase on the flat dining room table, open up the clasps of the briefcase and examine the items inside. Holy water, the Holy Bible and the appropriate attire for an exorcist to wear during an exorcism. I put on the attire, grab the Holy Bible and Holy water in separate hands with the Holy Bible open to a designated page for verses of cleansing. I sprinkled the Holy water over the house and halt as I did it once more towards a smaller wooden oak door on the second floor, Gerald Preston following closely behind, a screech so inhuman it could make your eardrums burst.

"It would appear that this demon doesn't want me here," I say as I flip to another section of the Holy Bible. I walk in the bedroom and do the sign of the cross. I see what appears to be Mrs. Preston in the corner of the room, looking horrified, the fear was written all over face and she knew she was scared. Gerald Preston squeezes through the small gap I left through the door and gasps, "Marilyn!" They both hug, but as much as I want to comfort then, I have to deal with a demon first.

"Well, hello..." If voices had colours, this would be extremely dark.

It sent shivers to the end of my tailbone. "Demon." I stare at the possessed son of the Prestons. He is a fairly young boy, possibly 14 years of age, with dark brown hair like his father. "Judah has never been like this before," Marilyn says to me and Gerald frowns. I hear the doorbell ring from downstairs and just wave it off as Sister Cathy arriving to assist me. With a possessed Judah Preston tied up with restraints, I scramble with my Bible, Holy Water in my right hand as my eyes search for the right words to say, Sister Cathy opens the door, my belongings in hand and greets me as if the boy was not possessed, "Hello, Father Finn." I simply nod at her greeting and we both get to work as she locked the room door to shield any type of evil from harming others.

The demon laughs in his, or rather, its deep satanic voice. "You're all done for. This boy is already gone," the demon snickers and continued, "I'll get you all," it paused and said it louder, "I'll kill all of you." The demon is taunting us as if it is our first time on an exorcism. "Be quiet, demon. If you wish to speak, only say your name," I tell it. The demon is quiet, its mouth still gurgling with sulphur. It would know that if we have hold of its name, it would lose its dominance. It's growling now, sounding like a dying engine in a Chevy.

"In the name of the Father, the Son and of the Holy Spirit," I do the sign of the cross as well as kiss the one that dangled upon my neck for some sort of better luck.

Sister Cathy and I both stand at the edge of the bed and I begin to bless the Medal of Saint Benedict. "Our help is in the name of the Lord," in which she replies with, "Who made Heaven and Earth." I take in a silent sharp breath and the demon just laughs at us, "in the name of God the Father Almighty," I do the sign of the cross of the demon, "who made Heaven and Earth, the seas and all that is in them, I exorcise these medals against the power and attacks of any evil being in comes across." We both bless the Medal at last as I sprinkle it with the Holy Water.

"Vade retro, Satana," I start with Saint Benedict's prayer for exorcism of an inhuman spirit. Sister Cathy quietly prays the Hail Mary in Latin as I continue, "Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proeilo," I splash the Holy Water on the boy, and the demon lets out a blood-curdling yell of pain. Sister Cathy and I both step back and I hold out the Medal of Saint Benedict.

"Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Non draco sit mihi dux! Nunquam suade mihi vana! Sunt mala quae libas. Ipse venena bibas!" I yell over the demon, it sends me flying to the wall, Sister Cathy unharmed. She is afraid, I can tell, as she has her eyes shut for the prayer of Hail Mary. The demon manages to release himself from its restraints made of extremely tight knots, Lord knows how many people it took to even tie the demon up. 

"Have you any idea who I am, 'lambs of God'?" the demon mocks us. It pushes Sister Cathy to the ceiling and she passes out from impact, which leaves me as the only sane one in the room. It cracks its own neck, I fear for what the vessel would feel and ask him once more, "What's your name, demon?" The demon lets out a gurgled scream, one that smelt an awful lot like sulphur and I can speculate that this demon fed on fresh goat meat. I hear a name being yelled out.

Before I can even continue and get off the ground, the demon has me pinned back to the ground with hands on my mouth to prevent me from yelling its despicable name. He smiles a toothy grin, not as toothy as a human could muster, but one with razor claw teeth, like one of a lion's.

I'm cornered.

My arms splayed out, I glance to the side of the room where Sister Cathy placed all of my belongings. I see Seth's hand vacuum from earlier. Forget him yelling at me, he'd probably come to my funeral and destroy my grave just for dying on him too early. I don't know why, but I grab the hand vacuum and point it at the demon's vessel. The demon laughs. "Did you really think you'd be able to stop with a hand vacuum? Amazing what your God has made you." With an inconvenient hiss coming from my mouth, even though it was covered, still able to be heard, I press the button of the hand vacuum. 

I would have never thought anything will actually happen, but I witness the demon coming straight out of Judah's mouth and into the hand vacuum. It wasn't clear enough, but there was indeed a faint cruel-like scream of an inhuman spirit.

I lie Judah back on his bed, nudging Sister Cathy out of her unconscious state and told her, "It would appear that the demon is gone, Sister Cathy. I did the exorcism twice just in case of a false hope." Her Prussian blue eyes gape at my brunt sienna and amethyst ones, looking at me in disbelief. It was a powerful demon, I can admit to her.

We pack up our belongings and call in the Vatican for an approval of the exorcism done on the Preston's son. The family thanks us for our services and the doors of the Preston household closes with a creak that sounded like it needed to be oiled.

"Father Finn, how about you ride in my car? You'll get home faster," Sister Cathy asks nicely. I looked at the sky, a little orange and blue in the mix, "No, I'll get home by bicycle. Seth is waiting at home with dinner probably on the way already. Here," I give her the briefcase and tell her to take it back to the church and place it where it truly belonged and left without another word.

I think it'd be safer if I didn't tell Seth about today's incident and told him that the exorcism just went well. I'm quite reluctant on it, but it'll do for now.

And I pedal home to my flat, I hear the sound of an old song in my head. 

"It's time of the season."


	3. Routine

It's never quiet here, I think. There's an odd beauty to it, how everything slots into place   
amongst the bustle of city life. How there's evidence- evidence of people. Just looking out from   
the roof of this apartment building is intoxicating. There are so many, all having their own individual cares and worries. People who come to chase opportunity; people who have loved ones in this city; people who dare to dream, to leave, to wonder... They fill me with some sort of paternal... fascination. 

If I close my eyes, this city will stretch on forever. I was always drawn to it. The connections   
people make with each other, the traffic of people arriving and departing, the immortality of   
their interactions and intentions... I can't live without this. 

I do close my eyes, and when I open them again, I feel like I am dreaming. This has all become   
routine to me. Over and over and over and over. I know why I have to do this. I know why I carry   
on with this. I know why I go through with this. It's my duty. To my city, to my people, to my   
best friend. To myself. 

I adjust my mask and enter. It is the seventh hour. 

I do this every night. 

As usual, I am on the prow of the solar barque. Ra is there, as usual, and so is the Eye of Ra.   
Bastet is there, which happens on alternate Tuesdays and Fridays. We have Serket's magic, my   
power, and Bastet's finesse. As usual, it ends with my spear through Apep's throat and me   
returning to the world of the living. 

It's the same thing, every night. There's no novelty to it anymore. I gather myself on the rooftop. My breathing is even. My heartbeat is steady. My brow is dry. Removing my mask, I   
slump onto the concrete. I want to- no, I need to sleep. Heavily, I sit up. Coffee has replaced my   
blood. I run on the ghosts of sleep. My spear-throwing arm throbs, and I rub my calluses as I pick myself up off of the roof. 

Every week, I patrol this city. I owe it to everyone here, and it's one of my favourite ways to   
clear my head. Shaking off my fatigue, I abseil down the building, and into a nearby passageway. My clothes blend into the shadows, and I move as quietly as I can, slipping past and onto the pavement. Before I go, I put my mask on. It fits over my head, neck, and shoulders snugly. 

I press the traffic light button and cross the road, forgetting to look both ways. 

Do not do this. 

Traffic safety is important, kids. Once I finish walking, I run up a nearby building, scaling it   
easily. I stay away from windows as a general rule. It might not make any difference in this day   
and age, where people have access to many different information sharing platforms and social media and can just take pictures of me, but it's the principle that counts. 

I'm not active enough to be really noticeable, but there have been mentions of masked figures   
benefiting society and wreaking havoc. I'm not sure if I should be flattered. It's not enough to be   
a problem, but I'm not as careful as I would like to be. 

I really should be more careful. 

Besides, I don't even wreak havoc often. 

I reach the top. 

The winter breeze permeates the patronage of my mask, and I can feel it against my skin. I   
stand, as tall as I can, and look around. Despite what one might think, I have an exceptionally   
good range of vision. Masks of this calibre don't exactly have to make sense.

Does anything have to make sense? I'm standing here, on a rooftop in the middle of a big city, and I can feel the grit of sand behind my teeth and between my fingers. Is that normal? Does that have to be normal? I don't really know. 

It's unsettling how peaceful this area is. 

I turn. 

I like my high spot. It's relatively high, high enough that I can see over the sides of the building   
and into the intersecting passageways below. There is also a rooftop garden, pretty, with soft lavender drapes and a robust frame. I don't know what fabric it is, but it slides over my   
fingertips like a dream. I return to scanning the ground for trouble. 

My eyes pass over the first passageway. Nothing. The second passageway. Nothing. The third   
passageway. No- there is the flash of light on metal, and the splutters of an engine. My gut tells me that it was stolen, and my mind immediately says otherwise. I should take my time, and watch for any sign of danger. My eyes return to the passageway. In the shadows, there is a figure. Soft, muffled curses. The rustle of cloth. I go, shimmying down the side of the building. 

I make no noise. The figure turns their head away. I appear, standing behind them, spear in   
hand. I try to conjure up images of the desert. When I speak, my voice is raspy and gravelly. 

"Step away from the motorbike." 

The figure jumps and steps out into the light. The first thing that strikes me is the Burberry   
tracksuit. Then come the physical features. Pale hair. Slight build. Male. Lurching gait. 

"You alright, bruv?"   
"That bike is stolen property. Relinquish it."   
"I don't know what you're trying to fucking pull, but-" He is unsteady on his feet. "This... This is mine." 

I've heard it before. The butt of my spear jabs into his solar plexus and as he staggers forwards, the heel of my palm slams into his face. There is the crunch of bone, and he staggers backwards. Then I punch him in the jaw. As one does. 

He falls onto the pavement. 

His nose is bleeding, but I'm more concerned about how he fell head-first. He doesn't move.   
Gently, I sit him up on the wall of the passageway. Ever, ever so gently. If he has a concussion,   
I'm screwed. 

I support his head and tilt it forwards slightly. Can't have him swallowing his own blood now, can we? I keep my hand on his head and note how nice red looks on the signature Burberry fabric pattern. 

I check his wallet, just to know who he is. I also take the opportunity to... ahem... liberate a five-pound note. There is a name, address, and a photo of him, hand proudly on the bike. Well fuck. I cocked up. 

I look at his address, just in case. Twenty-two, Acacia Avenue. That's on my route and one of my favourite songs. I fish for his phone and call for an ambulance; I put my spear away while it   
rings. 

It picks up after about five seconds. I take my mask off. The backlight sears my retinas and I   
squint at the time. Eleven-forty.

"Yeah? Hello? I'd like an ambulance, my mate," I glance at his name, "Aiden's had a bit of a   
tumble. He was a bit drunk, and now he's not responding."   
Oh. Right. The location. 

"We're at," I search for a signpost in the immediate vicinity, rattling off what it says. "-   
Hackney," I finish. "My name is Kyle." 

I stay with him, just in case. I put my mask back on, and sit next to him, hand still supporting his   
head. The red patch has only grown bigger. I can't move my arm. If I do, he might have lasting issues in the future. Concussions tend to do that. Besides, it's the least I could do. Obligation is a bitch to deal with. 

It's dark out here. The darkness blankets every building here, stretching across pavements and across his face. His nose has stopped bleeding, and I try to wipe the blood off. I only smear it across his lips and chin. He looks like a toddler who had an accident with strawberry jam. It was a shame about his nose, I think. I would set it if I knew how. If I did now, I'd just fuck it up somehow. 

The fingers of my free hand- my left hand, to be specific- tap out a beat against my knee. My   
toes wiggle. Sand. It niggles at the bottoms of my feet, and I make a note to empty my shoes out   
later. I'm not sure how that happened. I grind my teeth, and conclude that I have sand in my   
mouth, too. 

It really was a shame about his nose.   
I look at him.   
His eyes remain closed.   
His eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks, feathery and light.   
I stop looking at him. 

My mind does weird things when I'm tired. How long have I been sitting here? The pavement   
feels so good, so soft, so warm. Distantly, I think about my bed. My eyes begin to slide clo- 

No. 

I have to stay awake. How many windows are there on that building face? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. How many are lit? None, thankfully. I can't keep forgetting to check like this. I move my feet, straighten my knees. Any movement. Something. I can't be inactive like this. I'll fall asleep. My arm stays still. I tap the beat out against my knee again, this time twice as fast. 

I look up. Everything's so different from this perspective. I've been on rooftops for so long, I've almost forgotten how it looks like from street level. The buildings tower over me, like giants made of brick and mortar.

Suddenly, the darkness parts. Light fills the street, in red and blue. Only then do I hear the   
siren. I put his head down as softly as I can. Shame about his nose. I get away, detaching myself from him. I return to my spot on the rooftop as fast as I can go.

The ambulance stops and I just reach the lavender drapes of the garden. I check the other   
passageway, and leap across to another rooftop just as the ambulance drives away, Aidan- or Eiden, come to think of it- bundled into the back. 

I sigh, letting out a breath I never knew I was holding. It's good that he's going to be okay. I finger the edges of the fiver I lifted. 

I shouldn't have cocked this up. 

This was the second time this month, for fuck's sake.

I continue, going from rooftop to rooftop, only stopping to pour sand out of my shoes. I take the   
opportunity to check a nearby signpost. Acacia Avenue. She also lives here. I haven't been to her   
house since she left. 

I don't know how I felt, there, walking together under the trees. We were surrounded by oranges, browns, burnt siennas, and then, she smiled at me. I don't know what I felt, but it was... it was a mixture. A mixture of happiness and sadness, swirling together behind my sternum. I wanted to laugh; I wanted to cry. My head was full, full, full, but my heart was empty. My tongue was thick in my mouth. I was silent, walking with her beneath the Autumn sky, but my mind screamed and keened and wailed and it was awful and wonderful and most of all orange, brown, and burnt sienna.

"I think we should break up," she said.

"Okay," I said. 

I think it was really the best decision; I think I was holding her back; I think we should've done this earlier, but I feel that I still miss her. I want to see her again, but I've been too scared. Besides. It's for the best. 

I turn, and go. 

I shouldn't linger on things like this. It's not healthy. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shadowy figure wheeling away a motorbike. On reflex, my head swivels around until I face them. It takes me a few seconds to remember what happened a few hours ago. I redirect my gaze to the skyline. 

There's a church. St. Aidan. I must be drawing closer to the end of my journey. 

I walk a familiar path to find a familiar building. I latch onto the side and crawl up to the living room window. 

I open the window. Then, I swing into the room, as much like a gymnast as I can pull off. This is my favourite part. 

I take my mask off. I also take my 'clothes' off, and I step out of my borrowed power and agility. I'm not a pervert- I always wear normal clothes underneath. Until I take those off, too. My winter coat's zipper jams, and as I walk to the coat rack, I just yank it over my head. Something falls out of my pocket, but my vision is obscured by the myopia of fatigue. I grope around and just put it... anywhere. Somewhere. It should be fine. 

Everything will work out somehow. 

I stagger to the sofa and tune the radio to an unpopular station. It plays Betsy Byrne's Sleep Walk softly. I should really go for the bed, I think, before passing out. 

Light is strewn across the room. Ugh. Must be sunrise. Meowing. An alarm. I bury my head into the sofa. 

 

"Seth, wake up. You've a bed for a reason."   
"Yeah," I mumble, and go back to sleep.


	4. God of Creation

I walk through the entrance of our flat and slump against the door, "I'm home." I hear the bell on Grýla's collar as she comes towards me for a greeting. I pat her. My winter coat is getting stuffy since the heater was on. I throw the coat on the coat rack I nearly 'murdered' this morning. I unbutton a few buttons on my black shirt and untie the laces of my Oxford branded shoes. I leave the spoils (even though I found it on Seth's bicycle) of today on the top of the cabinet where Seth and I kept our shoes. I don't want to talk about it yet, Seth might think I went mental.

As I near the living room, I realise the flat is filled with the smell of Indian cuisine.

"Oh dear God. You've made dinner," I gasp at Seth in disbelief, Grýla cradled in my arms like a baby. "Language. And I didn't make dinner. It's called takeaway," Seth rolls his dark eyes at me. He turns around, the mop of his ebony coloured hair flying. I set Grýla on our dining room table as she sat, her back legs in the form of a 'T', while I prepare the table. Seth had been stirring the contents of Indian takeaway for what seemed like ten minutes to warm it up.

Dinner is going well. A few jokes here and there as we discuss issues about rent. Seth clears his throat.

"How was your day, by the way?"

Shoot. 

Do I lie? I can't lie. That's against God's good will. But if I must, "Smooth." Seth stares at me, his left eyebrow raised. "Smooth? What does that mean?" he chuckles as he takes a bite of the takeaway curry he prepared a while ago from his spoon.

"W-Well, I borrowed your bicycle today because the chains on mine broke-" I stutter and he stops chewing for a moment and mumbles, loud enough for me to hear him, "I read your note. I took the bicycle down to the shop to have it repaired." 

"What are you not telling me, Ket? You sound a smidge antsy tonight," Seth teases. I swear I can feel my own sweat fall on my forehead as I stare into his dark eyes- "Sister Evelyn told me to drop by a house for an exorcism," I shut my mouth up by covering it with both my hands. Oh God. No, no, no.

I see Seth's dark eyes turn soft and upset by what I'd just accidentally mentioned. I'm not supposed to mention that, oh Lord. "Seth, I'm sorry," I gasp. He snaps out of his daze and looked at me, a smile pinned to his face, "Don't worry about it. Finish your food. I'm gonna go out for awhile later so don't even bother to stay up tonight for me," he says, tidying his cutlery, and stands up from the dining room and walks to the kitchen to wash his dishes.

 

"You didn't even finish your own food."

 

After Seth shut the door of our shared flat, I hesitantly walk towards the cabinet where I had placed the vacuum earlier. The hand vacuum. I see it there, sitting atop the shoe cabinet; the red dye of its worn out handle is a very striking colour, so it's hard to even miss it. Grýla follows behind as I grab the spoils of today. She hisses at me, "Wh-What is it, Grýla?" I manage to stutter.

I think I'm going to piss myself, okay. I'm an exorcist, and I believe in all that supernatural stuff, so when cats hiss, I'm damn sure this thing isn't normal. I move to my room across the living room with the hand vacuum in hand. I lock the door behind me with Grýla staying outside. I grab my personal bottle of holy water with my bible and rosary in hand and spray the hand vacuum with holy water.

It screams. 

It's so loud. I'm sure the landlord will kick me out of the flat for making this happen. The screams aren't very nice to listen to. They're right out of a nightmare. A bazaar of bad dreams, really. I can't take the sounds of the screams from this demonic item no longer; my hands are ready to do the sign of the cross. I prepare myself mentally, for if I die in my own home, Seth might find my body mangled- or not at all... my worst nightmare.

"Vade retro, Satana," I say with a shiver down my voice and throat. 

I hear footsteps.

The "demon" laughs, "I never thought I'd live to see the chosen one myself."

My brown-green eyes snap open at the sound of this voice. I come face to face with a man. He's dressed in a black hoodie and jumper, his hair auburn blond. His eyes are a dazzling blue and saturated with red. I take note of the black baby hair growing atop his head too. It's definitely dyed. 

"State your name demon," I back up a bit. "State your name, chosen one," he responds, as if to try and provoke me. "I asked first," I retort. He grins a Cheshire grin and he stomps his black DocMartens closer towards me until we're inches apart.

"Atum, so nice to finally meet you."  
"Atum," I gape for a moment. I don't know where this name is from. Sounds strange. 

"I have given you my name, I demand to know yours, chosen one," Atum furrows his eyebrows together.   
"Ketil. Why are you calling me the 'chosen one'? I'm hardly special," I fold my arms, my bottle of holy water held tight in my left hand.   
"Just so you know, Holy Water doesn't work on me. I'm no demon, chosen one... Ketil," he laughs, "I am the God of Creation, Atum," he pauses for a moment too long, "Sound familiar yet?" 

Indeed, it leaves quite a sting on my tongue. It's so familiar but I still don't know where it comes from. "Sorry, no, doesn't ring a bell. What brings you here, Atum?" I ask him. My eyes squint a bit to focus on this guy because the lights are so dim. I want him out before Seth come home. He opens the door and Grýla came in and he begins to pet her, 

"I wanted to get the-," what he says next is inaudible. No, not inaudible. I'm not able to decipher it well, so I interrupt him, "Wait, what? I can't understand what you just said."

Atum seems to sigh, but I can't tell if he did or not. "Nevermind what it's called. I came to get this... hand vacuum, but it would appear that the current beholder has put an interesting force against it to stop anyone, anyone but you, to grab hold of it," Atun sits on the floor, his legs criss crossed. "But the only owner of this.. this thing was,"

"Seth."

I look up at Atum in confusion, "How in Heavens did you know that?" He laughs loudly, Grýla looks at him, wide eyed. "He hasn't told you," he continues laughing, "I'm afraid he has to tell you himself, now does he? I'd best be going now. The world is in your hands now, chosen one."

He gets up, his hands folded behind his back. "Until we meet again, chosen one. Fare thee well," he curls his fingers and he starts to evaporate into black smoke. Grýla runs towards me and I look into her yellow eyes.

"Why was he petting you like he worships you, love?"

It's 1AM when Seth reopens the door of our shared flat. I turn from the sofa in the living room and Grýla ignores his greeting. He looks in my direction and he seems a little astonished I was still awake, "Didn't I tell you not to stay up for me?" I turn back to the TV in front of me. 

"What are you not telling me, Seth Mellis?"  
"That should be me asking you."  
"What's this, Seth?"

I point to the hand vacuum sitting next to me on the sofa. His dark eyes follow my forefinger. It lands where my finger was pointed. He drops whatever he was holding and looks at me with his eyebrows knitted together.

"Where did you get that," he says, more a statement than an actual question. 

"I asked you first, Seth," I poke back, like when Atum asked me what my name was a while ago.

"Who are you?"

He looks to the balcony's sliding door, like he's trying to escape the question. 

"...fine." 

He let out a breath he probably didn't know he was holding. He sits on the other end of the sofa, the TV behind him. We are pretty far apart. He's trying to avoid the gaze of my brown-green eyes. 

"Have you seen what it can do yet?" he asks me right off the bat.   
"Define 'what it can do'. Seth, I almost died today during an exorcism," I whine a bit, "I don't exactly know why, out of everything else I could've used to fend myself from this one demon, I picked this hand vacuum. Seth, it sucked that demon in. What in Heaven's name is this hand vacuum's deal?"

He plays with his fingers for a bit. "It's called the," Seth says its name, and it comes out in hisses, clicks, and whistles. Much like what Atum said, but with actual incantations. The way Atum said it was much more... er, gibberish, for the lack of a better word from my vocabulary.

"What does it mean?"   
"Er... something about suction and portals..."  
"So just call it the Hand Vacuum?"  
"Sure, okay."

I still look at Seth. He hasn't met all my questions yet. "I met a man," I start. His dark eyes meet my brown-green ones.

"Who." It was more a statement than question, as if he knew who I was talking about. I hesitate.

"Atum," I say. Seth bites his lip as he looks at the hand vacuum sitting next to me on the sofa. 

"Him. Ugh. Great. I fucked up," he says. But it irritates me. "Language."

"Sorry."

"Go on," I insist. Although it was 1AM, I'm willing enough to listen to whatever he had to say now. What else did I have to live for? Oh. The people who need exorcists. Right.

"Where do I start?"  
"You seem more anxious to speak of this Atum. So. Let's start with, who's Atum, God of Creation, I know. Enlighten me on that, please."  
"If you wish."

Seth sucks in a sharp breath of oxygen and exhales silently as he begins telling me about Atum, 

"In ancient times, there were continents. One of which, was called Egypt. Before the beginning of the world, the Egyptians believed the world was but of darkness and chaos. This was called Nu. So there was Atum. He was the first of all Gods in Egypt. That's why he's the God of Creation. He swirled amongst the dark waters of Nu, so he created a stone to stand upon. It was called Ben-Ben."

He pauses. 

"Ben-Ben..." I nod. Immediately, I think of the Big Ben. That's an odd name, but I am called Kettle. This impromptu history lesson sounds interesting. "So this... Atum was the creation god of Ancient Egyptian mythology. Then what?" 

"The Ben-Ben was in the shape of a pyramid, and was where the first rays of sunlight fell." Seth furrows his eyebrows and looks up at the ceiling. "And... and then... Did I mention that he's also one of the solar deities?"

I shake my head. Seth is horrible at explaining things. He yawns.

"Oh. He is linked with the evening sun. Just the evening sun. Ra and Khepri are the midday sun and the morning sun, respectively. And then Atum had a wank."

"What."

"Atum. He, er, had masturbated and created the world. Either with his hand, or he blew himself? This is something that people seriously discuss."

"Seth, language. Also... what?" He coughs.

"Anyway. He then spat it out. And they became Shu and Tefnut. Air and water. They're also Ra's children. Ra created himself too. He also is a creator god, but better. He created things by speaking them into existence. Humans, however, were made from his tears and sweat."

"What does that have to do with the hand vacuum?"

"Well, he created it. Sort of. It was a collaboration between all of the gods. It can take control of any element and use it to pull people into the Duat. That's the equivalent of the underworld, or the realm of the dead. And I guess you, a Catholic priest of all people, were chosen to wield it."

"How do you know this, Seth?" 

How can I be certain that this is real? It was an impromptu mythology lesson, and then something about a hand vacuum. Why would Seth, my roommate, even have something like this? I've known him for more than ten years. Do I really know him?

"Finn, I-" he sighs, immediately seeming smaller. "I don't know how to put this..."

"Tell me when you're ready." He squares his shoulders.

"No. I should tell you now." Seth pulls a mask out of thin air. He passes it to me. "Don't put it on. On normal people, it would have no effect. You... you're special. But you probably know that already... Simply put, I don't know what will happen. It could be a genetic thing. I'm not sure yet."

I give it back, wordlessly.

"Um," he continues, deflating. "If I put it on, I am posse- influenced by the Egyptian god of deserts. Set. It changes me, a little. Not much, it just... amplifies parts of my personality based on the qualities of the existing god."

"How long have you had this?"

He shrugs. "Maybe seven years ago?"

"How could you hide this from me?" I thought we were friends. Best friends. We told each other everything, from our favourite colours to our worst fears. He even asked me if we could talk about the most private things... Well. Not private enough, evidently. I told him everything. From my social insecurities to my first inklings of asexuality. And he couldn't even tell me about this?

What kind of friend am I, to not have picked up on this? Was this why he was constantly tired? I draw my knees to my chest.

"It's fine, we can talk about this later. We'll make our way through this," I say, "and maybe you can tell me more about... you." I also make a mental note to google Set, Atum, and the Egyptian creation myth. Actually, that reminds me. "Was Atum like, like you?"

"Yes. I think so. I've never seen a god access the mortal plane without a human vessel." He gestures up and down his body.

"Me, for example."  
"Is it just the Egyptian gods, or can...?"  
"Every faith, every creature. Ancient Greek gods, Jewish spirits, Christian angels..."

I sigh. 

"We should sleep, Seth."

I go. He doesn't follow.


	5. A New Darkness

My phone chirps and turns itself on, light standing out against the darkness of my room. I groan, roll over, and check what it says. The news, that is. Nine o’clock, I note.

‘Another masked figure spotted in Italy.’

That’s five now. There’s a photo attached, too. Still groaning, I turn on my bedside lamp. Blurry. Short. Maybe below average height for an adult, so I would guess that they’d be a teenager. Probably just received their mask. I retrieve my mask, pulling it out of thin air. Reminds me of when I got my mask, at eighteen. 

The snout of my mask is distinctive, and I haven’t seen anything like it between the four other Italian figures. I check the picture again. The figure’s mask- or what I can make out of their mask- has no animal face. It looks more like the other four’s. I turn my phone off and set an alarm for two hours. No need to patrol tonight. I did that two days ago. Yawning, I turn off the light.

Ketil knows now. After he went up, I sat on the sofa, palms over my eyes. What does he think of me? Should I have told him? I feel lighter now that he knows a bit. But when I told him, I could only feel the weight of my own failures. Like my inability to keep my home life and my work life separate. 

If I had known Ketil was the chosen one, this would’ve happened a lot sooner.

It’s probably fine now. He should be fine. Honesty and communication are the most important things in a relationship.

I fall asleep, and wake to the sound of my phone alarm. 

I swing my feet over the side of the bed and walk across the room. My socks make shuffling noises on my bedroom floor.

Without even looking, I throw on weather-appropriate clothes. Glancing down, I notice that I had put on a jumper that Evie gave me. It was a Christmas gift, the year before she broke up with me. It has little snowflakes on the hem, in my favourite colour; I can remember how she passed it to me from under her doorframe.

She was sick at the time. Down with a cold. Most people were at the time. Of course, with it being so... well, cold. Evie was dressed in her pyjamas. And I looked at her, eyes bloodshot, hair falling about, with a pimple forming on the end of her red nose, and I thought that she was the most beautiful person I have ever met. I still do.

But I shouldn’t be thinking about her now. What am I doing, being this distracted? I pull the jumper off and replace it with another, less sentimental piece of clothing.

Quietly, I sneak across the flat. Using my impeccable stealth skills, I manage to steal down the corridor, past Ketil’s room. I sigh, relieved. I don’t want Ketil to find ou- wait. What am I doing this for? He already knows. In the middle of the living room, I stop. I ditch being quiet and rustle every bit of plastic I can find, snickering. In my moment of madness, I manage to wake Grýla. She hisses at me. Trying to calm her down, I pet her. She continues to hiss until I slink away.

I consult my list of safe places to put my mask on until I remember that no, it’s okay if Ketil wakes up in the middle of the night and spots me. So I change, right in the middle of the living room.

I relish in this. It results in several plates being broken and pillows being strewn across the room. He's probably going to lecture me about it one day and I won't hear the end of it because we barely pay off rent.

Once I leave the flat, I go to the same roof of the same apartment building. The one I always go to. This is the place where I enter the Duat. The realm of the dead. The underworld. Where I see Apep every night. I have to go to these places because they are spots where reality is slightly different. I don’t know how, but the gap between the Duat and the mortal plane is a little weaker. I want to cross-reference them with a map of the ley lines, but I keep forgetting to. 

I assume that travel to any of the other realms would be easier here, too. I don’t know if they exist and how to access them, though.

When I enter, I land on the prow of the solar barque. I grunt, and get to my feet. Ra is already there. He always is. With a start, I notice the Eye of Ra. She... she’s everywhere Ra is. I think they’re related somehow. Usually personal relationships reflect the relationships between the mythological deities. 

“What time do you think he’ll be there?” I say, dusting off my uniform. 

The Eye of Ra shrugs wordlessly. I don’t know who they are or even where they are. They could be from another continent. “He could be here at any time. Get ready in case he comes before Serket,” he says, still staring straight ahead.

I open my mouth to ask about Bastet, and- no. She won’t be here. She only comes on alternate Tuesdays and Fridays, and it’s Thursday today. Why do I keep forgetting things? Maybe I’m more distracted than I thought. I try to gather myself before we meet Apep.

An awkward silence settles over us. I root around for things to say. The Eye of Ra doesn’t speak. I’m sure she can, but the mask she wears won’t let her. That’s the problem with being the vessel of an eye. The cobra around her neck bobs and hisses. She stares out over the side. I wave at her. She waves back, cheerfully. Her shoulders shake in an echo of a giggle.

“Many obstacles today?” My fingers drum against the side of the boat. There is a pause before Ra speaks.

“None.” Another pause. “The same as usual.” 

I nod, and look out over the rim. There isn’t much in the Duat. Ra spends most of his time in the sky, drawing the sun from east to west. All three of the sun deities, Khepri, Ra, and Atum, take different shifts and cycle throughout the day. Atum is the lord of the evening sun, but he isn’t here. He doesn’t want to fulfil his duty to fight a giant snake-shaped entity of chaos every night. I can’t understand why... and frankly, he’s a wanker. If you pardon the expression. 

I’ve never seen him before, but him playing truant makes me instantly dislike him. He also paid a visit to Ketil, despite me telling everyone here to keep my home life and my work life fucking separate. 

Moving on. Since Apep is below the horizon, he’s technically in the Duat. Speaking of the realm of the dead, I think the realms function as altered realities. Maybe. I don’t have any other explanation for why this place exists.

Then, do I realise that Ra must have some contact with Atum. Of course! Why didn’t I think of that sooner? I shuffle over to him, and say: “Ra? You know Atum, right? Can you ask him something for me?”

He nods, and waits for me to continue.

“Can you ask him why he went and bothered my roommate? The... chosen one, Ketil. Also, ask him why he has an interest in the-” I say the Hand Vacuum’s name, in hisses and clicks no sane human would understand. It doesn’t have an equivalent meaning in the English language.

“I will,” he says after a while.

About an hour after I arrive, Serket appears. Unlike me, she lands gracefully. Her hair flutters with her descent. I think she is one of the most talented people here. She can heal, do magic, create poison... I admire her skill set. Serket hums under her breath- most likely warming up her voice for spell-casting. She sits on her heels in the middle of the barque and passes out small pots of poison.

Ra begins to cry. His tears transform before they hit the ground and unfurl into tiny soldiers. Serket, however, breathes life into some statuettes hidden around the barque. The Eye of Ra stretches. Her fingers sharpen, her teeth lengthen, and her hair grows; and not before long she has the visage of a lioness.

I just pick up my spear. I can’t do anything besides stab. I can control sand, but I would have to have sand first. Any attempts to conjure up enough sand fail. I wish we would fight someone on a beach. Six years of doing this, and we never fight anyone on a beach.

Two hours now, after I arrived. We are sufficiently prepared. Now we wait. The Eye of Ra swaps places with me, and stares out into the Duat. She has one paw planted on the prow. Possibly for dramatic effect.

Fighting Ra is not particularly taxing, and we do it every night. But sometimes, he wins. I don’t know what will happen when- no, if- he does. Maybe something bad? Is that why Serket, Ra, and the Eye of Ra prepare so much?

Two hours and a half. It’s about two o’clock. Apep finally appears. He crashes into view at breakneck speed; his existence stutters slightly to recalibrate. This is evil and chaos incarnate. His tail swerves from side to side, and the Eye of Ra gives the signal.

Ra’s soldiers fall into a formation. They charge and behind me, Serket sings. Her voice echoes in the space between us and Apep, amplifying and multiplying until it hits him at full force. It blinds him temporarily. Now is her opportunity to attack.

The Eye of Ra leaps from the prow of the ship, claws at the ready. She collides with the back of Apep’s head and proceeds to gouge out his eyes. He thrashes back and forth, but she hangs on, tail swinging.

Ra’s soldiers work quickly. They pin down and secure Apep’s tail, all while avoiding being destroyed. Serket is chanting now, and I can feel my heartbeat getting faster. Her chant acts as a magnifier and as I listen closer, I notice that she’s reciting the words of a poem. I watch Apep from the solar barque and take my place at the prow. This all happens within the time it would take for his eyes to regenerate.

The spear is much lighter now. I take my stance. The barque draws closer to Apep. 

Three hours now.

It launches through the air, embedding itself through Apep’s throat. The Eye of Ra clambers off of him and onto the  boat. I am inches from Apep. He turns to me and looks into my eyes. With his last breath, he whispers:

“A new darkness will begin with the one called Ketil.”

My body freezes, from my toes to my scalp. “How do you know his name?” I hiss, blood boiling. The waters of the Duat rush against the sides and the wind whips my scarf around my face.

And as I finish speaking, he disappears, vanquished.

I pant and double over, my hands on my knees. My heart is racing and I think my face is red, like I had run a long distance.

No one seems affected by what had just transpired. The wind is eerily calm and the water is almost still. Not even the environment... I frown, before I understand what happened. Apep looked into my eyes. His gaze is powerful. It can create illusions, can confound you into attacking your friends, can even bring up your worst fear. I sigh. My knees weaken and I collapse. This could just be a one-off thing. Just him, tapping into my worst fears to... to torment me.

Serket comes over. The Eye of Ra supports me and helps me sit up. “I think he just had an Apep-related hallucination. He should be fine.”

She rests a hand on my forehead. “No fever. Are you getting enough sleep?”

I nod.

“Just sit down while you catch your breath.”

Oh fuck. Ketil. Oh fuck...

Serket steps away and inhales the life from the statuettes. I don’t move a muscle. Not even to her murmurs of “We didn’t even need them tonight...” and the way they lie, motionless on the deck. She disappears and leaves the Duat.

I put my hands over my eyes. How can I tell him? He’ll take it to heart and it could have just been a hallucination which didn’t mean anything and it’ll all be fine. Everything will be okay. Ketil will be okay. We’ll just have to learn how the Hand Vacuum works.

Maybe this entire thing didn’t even happen. It could just be a really fucked-up dream. I bury my entire head in my hands. The Eye of Ra walks over and pats my back. 

Finally, I look up. “Are you going soon?” 

She shakes her head. 

“We are going to be here until Khepri shows up,” Ra says in the background.

“Okay,” I say, and go. I appear on the rooftop.

Three o’clock. I put my watch back in my pocket and make my way home. The way back is one I’ve taken thousands of times before... but today it feels foreign and confusing. I chalk it up to Ketil. Now he knows, everything’s been thrown out of balance.

When I get back to the flat, I sit down. My mask is removed. I run through different ways to tell him, and settle on one peppered with placating descriptions. Then, I take off my ‘clothes’ and fall asleep face-down on the sofa.


	6. The Tenth Circle

My eyes open as I listen to what seems like the sound of plastic rustling outside my room door. I couldn't exactly sleep. After what Seth said about the Egyptian myths turned out to connect to the whole extravaganza of today, my whole faith in Christianity seemed to sink a little, but needless to say, I'm still a follower. 

I get off the daybed that is situated at one corner of my room and open the door to see Grýla sitting in front of me, her little blue eyes staring. I am aware of Seth's departure. I pinch the bridge between my two eyes and sigh tiredly. I don't know how to cope with this sudden change in atmosphere.

I can't take it.

I need to get out of this claustrophobic flat. Wouldn't say it's claustrophobic, but it is getting stuffy from all the intense atmosphere building up. I pick up the laundry from around the flat I lived in, the magenta basket that sat around in the kitchen next to my bedroom door slowly filling up with clothes I deem washable.

I see the clothes on the living room sofa, which were no doubt Seth's. I enter his room, permission or not, I need to do the laundry. His clothes are strewn all around. I see his bed unmade and books lie around, a biography of some sort. He's a bookworm, to anyone's surprise. I pick up his clothes piece by piece, the basket held at my hip to be supported. I see Seth's fur coat on the radiator, messily spread out. I shake my head, wondering how he can sleep in a room where it's such a pig sty. My hands grip the oak brown coat of fur, and I start to wonder why he has such a coat. I don't realise that something was hooked to one end of the coat. It ripped.

"Oh dear, oohhhh dear. Oh my," I gasp a little, startled by the ripping sound the coat made as I pull it. I lift it gently to see how badly I tore the coat. My hands swift through the fabric gently and I hear what sounded like metal clanking on the ground. It stops after the sound of a circular roll. The room smells like the sun and daisies now. I pull back for a moment to see what'd fell on the ground because of my hands. There it is. A ring. I pick it up.

It is engraved with an enchanting design. The snakes of flowers and the Sun's ego shown in the engraving were so mouth-watering, one would be dead in a full minute. What followed suit was a full sized falcon, and then a cat that was accompanied by what seemed to look like a dog. The last one was... also a dog? I won’t be able to explain its existence even if I did know what it was. My hands, although nimble, slowly shake violently from my control.

It is on my finger before I could protest.

"Wha-"

I swear, Lord Almighty, Jesus Christ who sits in the throne next to the Father of all, I can see the neighbour's bedroom.

I shut my eyes, my hand travelling to my pockets, making sure I have some sort of religious item with me. Luckily I kept things like that in my clothes, just in case. In this case, my black rosary. I land face first in contact with the cement floor of what reminds me of the basement laundry floor. I scramble, noticing my magenta laundry basket had fell along with me. Okay, that's great. At least I can do some laundry while I figure this out. Like I'm not piled up with any kind of stress already, no.

Sure enough, I am in the basement. In front of the laundry room, really. My eyes wiggle up to see the entrance of the laundry room. My eyes immediately catches the two cat-like creatures standing on the sides of the entrance. Their eyes glow, golden in colour, and their hands hold a spear-shaped staff. They guarded the door so I couldn't enter- in the shape of an X. Their clothes look odd. Perhaps like sheaths, but more sophisticated. Something the Romans would wear during the time before Christ, I would say.

"He will see you now," one of them says. Their spears retract and I see that they've allowed me in, hopefully for me to exorcise whatever's in there. My hands hold the laundry basket steadily by my hip, my rosary in the right hand that held the basket to my hip. I enter the room, and I take note that I still wear my indoor slippers from upstairs, but shake it off as I become aware that I may not be able to do the laundry at all. The laundry isn't even the laundry room anymore. It is the size of a myriad possibilities. My eyes can't comprehend the size at all. I do, however, notice that the washing machines and dryers lie around one corner, like they've been moved out of the way.

The room is brighter than the usual dimly lit laundry room. The lighting is a wonderful golden shining, like the how the Sun would light up a day, if that's not too hard to understand. There is a throne  situated right in front of the entrance, like it was turned into a throne room rather than the laundry room I see every once a week. Sitting on the throne were a man and what seemed like a woman.... with a tail?

"Welcome, chosen one!"

The man sits upright now, and my laundry basket is pushed further into my hip and the rosary in my hand is gripped tighter. The man is easy to describe. He is dressed in a black cloak, his hair an ebony colour, like Seth's, but I choose not to say anything since he has a tuft of white hair on the top connected to his... ears? His skin is a little tanner than Atum's. Perhaps he's been swimming in broad daylight. I almost laugh at the mental image. The woman seems surprised at the mention of "chosen one", and her tail became frizzy all of a sudden. The man walks towards me, in which I walk ahead to do my laundry- where I saw the machines in a corner earlier, to indicate that I have definitely had enough of this "chosen one" bull- sorry. 

I slam the basket on the washing machine as he stops and stands behind me now. His hands folded behind him, and the woman that followed him was now shying away from me behind him. "Who are you people," I ask, more of a demanding statement rather than a polite question, because I can't really be polite with what's going on these days. I toss my brownish hair stressfully and meet the man's eyes.

"Perhaps you've heard of us. I am Anubis," he bows towards me. "This lovely young lady," he steps out of her way and I can see her now, "is my beloved, Bastet." Her hair is a dark gleam of lilac, her eyes shone an enchanting golden. It occurs to me that, "aren't you married to Anput?" I had followed through on my decision to google them.

He falters. "That was many generations ago. She's passed on her final death,” he says after a brief moment of pausing to think of something to say to my response. "So you do know of us," he states. I step back a bit, my back now turned against them, I prepare the washing machine for a cycle. "It's called research," I say rather nonchalantly, my rosary still kept tightly in my right hand. I drop the subject of Anput, letting go for closure.

"That thing you wear," he says, his fingers drumming on the dryer. "It's mine," he gestures to the ring on my finger, which I completely forgot about, with his eyes, the colour of lime green and golden saturated in his eyes like I'd never expected to see. Contacts? Do the masks change eye or hair colour? It would explain Bastet... but it could be dyed, like Sister Cathy’s.

"It seems to have chosen you, as predicted. I-I suppose," he stutters out, to which I respond, "Yes, enlighten me on all this please." I dump the laundry in the washing machine and press on the start button so the laundry can start washing. "I'd made a prophecy a long while ago. It was an accident," he starts. He swipes his hand across the air and sure enough, in hieroglyphics, words started to appear. I can read it, I just don't know why or how I can. I just can. 

The Sun sets,  
The Sky is dark.  
And the waters are swirling,  
A long stretch of darkness in it.

Destruction came,  
And creation cries of despair.

The wrath of the Snake,  
A size too myriad for one to count.  
The sense of silence in the dark,  
Though there is light.

For there is a hope,  
One will break the darkness.

This,  
The chosen.

"You can say we're in a bit of a pickle, is that what you English say?" Anubis says, Bastet roaming around in the golden room of throne. "What do you mean?" I asked, playing with the ring that sat on my finger. "The name of that ring is called Shrouded," Anubis says, his stature now sitting upon the dryer, cross-legged. 

I give him the ring, "Take it. I don't want to see it if it's the cause of whatever's been going on." His palm is faced towards me, "I cannot accept it. Even if it is mine, it will refuse me because I made it so it will choose it's master. You know, like the Mjölnir or the Elder Wand," he said, shrugging his cloak-draped shoulders.

"Woah, wait. What do you mean you're in a bit of a pickle," I ask. "Back on... the other side, or what you humans may refer to as Duat. We've stumbled upon quite a problem with one particular God," he pauses and wets his lips. "His name is Apophis, also known as Apep. He... is the embodiment of chaos," he stops for another second, "he's caused us trouble yet again." 

I shake my head, "News flash, that's what happens when you create the very embodiment of chaos itself." Anubis is taken aback by my rhetorical response, he didn't expect that from me, I knew that much.

"What kind of trouble?" I ask anyway. Bastet was lying lazily on the throne now, her legs dangling off the armrest. Anubis sighs, he pushes his dark hair back and his eyes are closed to recall whatever bad deed chaos has caused him. He swipes his hands forward and he covers his mouth with his hands. 

"The tenth circle."

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked in a fit of pardons, his voice was so low it was barely above a whisper. "The tenth circle," he repeats a little louder. Anubis looks me in the eyes and he gets off the dryer to stand, he starts to walk to Bastet. "I'm positive you've heard of the nine circles of Hell, yes?" Anubis questions as he gestures to Bastet to move off the throne for a bit so he could sit. He takes his rightful seat on the throne and Bastet sits on his lap, purring, while rubbing the top of her head to his neck, he did not seem to be amused nor was he angered by this action of Bastet's. She snickers softly.

He rests one side of his head on his palm and his lime-golden eyes gleamed in the brightness of the throne room that came from no where. I leaned against the washer. "I can't say that I haven't heard of it. They teach you things when you need to be am ordained minister, you know," I say, my arms folded. What does this have to do with Egyptian mythology?

"You've been told of only the nine circles. Dante never told of the tenth," he closes his eyes, his memory, to me, seemed a bit faded. "The tenth circle holds all of evil," he pauses, "it's a throne room for demons far too evil for Liveside to handle, it's meant for Jehovah to feel the wrath of his exiled son."

"Jehovah?"  
"....you'll be told about that later. Now is not the time."

Anubis clears his throat and I question no further. The washing machine beeps, has it really been that long? I take the washed laundry out of the machine and slowly move it into the dryer Anubis once sat above. "Please, please. Continue," I gesture for him to continue with his chaos-stricken story. I press the button of the dryer so it starts its job, and wait. His hands dangle in a circular motion, to which Bastet happily brushes her head against. And I wait for him to finish.

"He's opened a clear portal way for the tenth circle inhabitants."


	7. That Night From Seth's View

It’s been taking Ketil a long time to do the laundry. I honestly feel a little guilty, seeing him do all this work, especially after he just had all of his beliefs questioned and thrown out of balance. Then I remember that he hasn’t done the laundry for a month and immediately feel better.

Throwing the blanket off of my head, I get up from the sofa. How long have I been asleep? I groan. Apep is always stressful to deal with. At least I get paid for it, which is probably the only reason why we can afford this place.

I feed Grýla, by which I mean she bites me. This time I was prepared. Always keep plasters in your kitchen. I still fill her food bowl, just so she won’t be hungry again later. It’s Thursday today, I note, checking the kitchen calendar. I was wrong yesterday. When you don’t exactly have a job or school, you tend to lose track of time…

I sigh and lean on the kitchen counter. Ketil’s been gone for ages now. Should I be worried? No. That’s stupid. He just went to do the laundry. Apep comes to mind, settling up onto my thoughts like oil on water. I check my watch every so often. Six o’clock already. Grýla curls up on the sofa and I ferry a few books from my room to the kitchen.

It takes another thirty minutes for him to finish doing the laundry. The basement door closes with a soft click. There is the sound of sock-feet padding across carpet. I know we haven’t done it in a while, but we don’t have that many dirty clothes. I think of Atum, or who I think he is. We’ve never really met; I’ve only heard of him through Ra or Bastet. I imagine that he has perpetual stubble and eyes as dark as the night sky. If he knows where we live and can break in, what could have stopped him from attacking Ketil in the basement?

Only then do I turn around to look at him. I do it warily, degree by degree, mentally preparing myself for an imposter or signs of a struggle. Nothing is wrong with him. Nothing. I worked myself up for nothing.

Then he raises his hands. I see the glint of metal before I realise what it is. 

“Seth, do you know someone called Anubis?” he says, pressing his palm into my face. I hold his hand further away from my face, trying to get a better look. The first things I notice are the engravings. A tiny falcon, a tiny cat, tiny decorative flowers... I turn his hand around, which is where I see the centrepiece: Anubis’ jackal symbol. Next to it is a tiny Set animal. I’ve heard of this ring before.

“He didn’t propose, did he?” I say, trying to keep my tone light. I’m a failure. I failed to keep people who I don’t trust from knowing about him. First Atum, then Apep, and now Anubis. Great. It’s like every Egyptian deity knows our address! I don’t even talk to Anubis! I’ve only heard of him through Bastet! 

“Seth... Take this seriously.” 

“Fine. Tell me what happened.” He does that in painstaking detail, describing Bastet’s hair just so and talking at length about how the room with the throne materialised in the basement. A room with a throne materialising?

“Finn,” I say at last, “I think you can alter reality.”

He scoffs. 

“I mean it this time. It isn’t an elaborate prank,” I search for ways to put this, turning over words in my brain. “You can make it easier to enter altered realities. Like... like the Duat.”

Ketil sobers. “You really think so?”

“Yeah.” I peer at his ring. “I’ll ask Bastet about this when I see her next. We could use the two days to experiment with reality.”

Ketil collects his thoughts and says: “I actually wanted to tell you about what he told me... about Jehovah.” My blood runs cold. “He’s (Apep) opened a clear portal to Hell. The tenth circle.”

“Christianity... El Roi’s always favoured the more popular religions.” Or so I’ve heard. That was all through rumour and gossip. Godsip? Anubis was always one of the more popular gods; this meant he was more powerful. Personally, I think it’s due to his newly acquired sex symbol status amongst furries. But I didn’t know he had intel on the other religions... and on El Roi, too. More things for me to ask Bastet about.

“El Roi?”   
“Jehovah has many names. I like the sound of El Roi a lot more than Jehovah. What does the tenth circle even mean?”

“You know the nine circles,” he asks in that endearing way of his, more of a statement than a real question.

“Not... Not really?”

“Okay... They’re from a poem. The Divine Comedy, by Dante Alighieri.” I mutter it to myself, struggling to pronounce his name fluidly. “It’s about his venture through the nine circles of Hell, guided by the poet, Virgil, and then Beatrice, his dead beloved,” he continues. “Every different circle is allocated a different sin, like violence, fraud, and treachery.”   
“Does poetry count as holy scripture? How do you know so much?” My books are strewn across the counter, and I briefly entertain the idea of tidying up. No. Maybe not.  
“It does not. I’ve just been doing some research.”  
“Are you free today?” I say, turning to him. I strike a faux-suave pose against the counter. We could use the time to experiment with reality.  
“Seth, focus. The nine circles.”  
“Right.”  
“There’s a tenth circle. It’s where the sinners who can’t leave are... the ones who have done the most heinous things imaginable.” Ketil sighs dramatically. “Anubis didn’t want to tell me what they did. They’ve mutated into demons, having lost all sense of humanity.”  
He has been getting more exorcisms recently.  
“And when did this happen?”  
“About five days ago, he said.” Right. That makes sense.  
“And they have a clear portal to... our world.” He nods. “That’s odd,” I continue, “why haven’t we heard anything from any other parts of the world?”  
Ketil shrugs. “I asked that too, but he didn’t really have a clear answer.”

I pause. “Want to fuck around with reality?” He goes for the Hand Vacuum, turning away from me.  
“Language, Seth,” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice.

Five hours later, we stumble back to the flat, hair singed and laughing. We put the Hand Vacuum back on the shoe cabinet. Ketil dusts ash out of his hair while I shake the majority of it loose. “Now, Finn, just as we practiced,” I spin around, still laughing, and take him by the shoulders. “Focus. Send me to the Duat.” As he bends reality, hammering it out, making it just thin enough for me to slip through, I put on my mask.   
“You’ll be okay without me?”   
“Yes.”

I enter. Ra is there. 

“I talked to Atum.” He is silent for a while. “He says he tracked down your friend’s signal.”  
“Ketil gives off a signal?” The Eye of Ra is up in front, scanning the Duat for Apep. I am at the back this time. The snake around her neck hisses softly. I can barely hear it over the thrashing of the water below.  
“Yes.” What signal? I’ve been around him all day, every day for the past few years, and I haven’t felt anything.  
“Ra... I need another favour. Can you get Atum to meet with me?” I can see him consider it, from the tilts of his head and the set of his shoulders. He nods.

Half an hour before Serket is meant to arrive, Apep emerges. The Eye of Ra makes the signal, and we spring to action. He rises out of the depths like some great sea monster, dramatically and purposefully. Every movement is calculated to intimidate us. The Eye of Ra shifts, this time into a cobra. Shapeshifting is enchanting, just watching how a human can change so much... It’s beautiful. Ra is crying, surrounding himself with a small army. He snuffles wetly. I reach for my spear, muscles tense. 

He looms over the boat, and we are ready for him. We are ready for anything that will happen, and brace for the first attack. This would be a lot easier with Serket. When this usually happens, we try to bide our time until she arrives. The Eye of Ra slithers towards him, fangs bared and tipped with Serket’s poison. Ra’s army creeps closer, ready to take him down. I stand on the prow, spear ready. This time, I will attack first, which would hinder him enough to buy some time. I aim, make sure he is in sight, and throw. 

The spear is ten centimetres away from him when he disappears. The water roils where he once was. This is all calculated to intimidate you, I think. I am shaken anyway. The Eye of Ra gives a full-body sigh and makes the sign for reconnaissance. She changes shape again, her form condensing into a sphere. She finishes as a floating eyeball. As she floats upwards, Ra’s army spreads out around the rim of the boat. I summon another spear and retake my position at the front. 

It takes fifteen minutes. The Eye of Ra gets her chance to poison Apep; Ra’s army also gets their chance to wound him. I impale him, careful not to look directly into his eyes this time. My hands are still on the spear. We are less than a metre apart again. He whispers something, and I fight the urge to look at him. It is too quiet for me to hear, but I manage to catch some sounds... especially one that sounded like ‘Ketil’. 

I hiss and open my mouth to demand more- more whispers, more about Ketil- but he disappears for the last time tonight. I leave immediately, extremely frustrated. This is what he does. He attacks our weak spots, prods at the soft underbellies of our psyches until we snap. I return to the Liveside. 

I return to Ketil’s face. Taking off my mask, I relay Ra’s information.   
“Do you think,” he says eventually, “the demons could sense the signal, too? It could explain why they’re all in London.”  
“That is a possibility.” I collapse on the sofa.   
“Seth, you’ve a bed for a reason.” I mumble an excuse and drift off.

When I wake up, Ketil is gone. So is the Hand Vacuum. There is a moment of brief panic. I read his note and find out that he is on an exorcism; immediately, I calm down. I make lunch. Grýla stalks after a cat toy. I clean. I find my ripped coat. Ketil doesn’t come home until two hours later. He has already eaten, he says. He still eats the pasta. I offer to take him outside to play around with the Vacuum. To feel it purr, to touch its glossy red finish, to touch where it is worn smooth with use. 

“No, not today. I’ve just had a very taxing exorcism.” He rolls up his sleeves to reveal white gauze and grimaces. “Several stitches. It grabbed me by the arm.” I look into his eyes, and finally take in the busted lip. How dangerous were his exorcisms? My stomach turns in worry. Quick, lighten the atmosphere! I conjure up badly-written romance heroines and breathe: “Take me with you next time!” The back of my wrist is delicately placed on my forehead. 

Ketil looks at me, and I can tell he isn’t taking me seriously. He considers it, and I can see his expression change. “Sure. You can come.” I get him some ice for his lip. It should stop swelling soon. Maybe by tomorrow. It doesn’t look too bad. He would still need my help. If the demons are getting more powerful, I don’t know how he will cope. His Hand Vacuum arm isn’t looking too good. We need to find out more about the portal and hopefully close it. Of course, there are more exorcists, but Ketil is something special. I know it. 

At night, I go to the rooftop to enter the Duat. Ketil is in no shape to alter reality, and we don’t know what side effects reality warping will have- at least, when he’s obviously not in peak condition. My mask is on, and it is almost comforting on worried nights like these. 

I enter. There is a stranger sitting next to Ra. The Eye is watching the water intently. She fiddles with her hair absently. The stranger’s hair is pale but fades to auburn blond and finally to black. There is a distinct familiarity about him... the way he carries himself, or maybe he reminds me of an old friend. The most striking thing about him is his cable-knit jumper under an unzipped hoodie. He immediately irritates me, having the gall to not wear his uniform. All Solar Barque members have one.  
“Who are you?” I say.  
“Atum.” I instantly despised him.   
“Why are you wearing this?”  
“It’s too fucking cold for Burberry.” That’s because it’s a raincoat brand, you twat. He’s bad at conversation and is insulting us by not wearing the uniform. He has no taste whatsoever. His mask covers most of his features, but hints at a good bone structure. I am immediately bitter. I swallow my hatred for this absolute wanker, this horrible little shit, I can hear his smirk in his voice and I hate him I hate him I hate him.

The Eye still hovers over the edge, never tearing her gaze away from the water. I would too, especially if I had to deal with a guy like Atum. I can get over this. I can. I swallow my rage again.

“Do you know why you’re here?” I say, expertly concealing the spite in my voice.  
“You wanted me here. Something about the chosen one. What do you want to know?” He spreads himself out, as if to take up as much space as possible. Inconsiderate bastard. “Weird how you just can’t ask him yourself, especially as you live with the guy.” I take my spear out just in case Apep is here. “Then again, he seemed pretty clueless.” I tighten my grip on the spear.  
“I’m talking about the signal. What is it and how did you find it?”

“You don’t know about it? Really?” He sighs, like I’m being unreasonable. “Your roommate gives off a signal throughout the day, in little pulses. It’s easy to find out where he is, so long as you have two brain cells to rub together.” He glances at me, and I immediately feel anger bubble up in my stomach. “So why can’t you feel it?”

I don’t know. I almost tell him that, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “When did the signal start?” I say instead.  
“It was always there, I think. It was much, much weaker, and I didn’t care to do anything about it. But recently, it just grew stronger and stronger. So, I followed it.” He looks straight at me. “I guess it was because of the Hand Vacuum. Why can’t you feel it?”  
“Maybe I’m desensitised to it,” I say noncommittally. 

I face away from him. He whispers something under his breath, but I can still make out the words. “And I had forgiven you for almost breaking my nose, arsehole.” I can’t remember that; I would remember someone so insufferable. I go over to the Eye of Ra. I had almost forgotten about her. She’s cheery, as usual. She shakes her head when I ask about Apep. I spend the next ten minutes talking with her, leaning just so over the edge of the boat.

Bastet enters, landing on her feet. I don’t have to check to know that Atum’s interest has been piqued. She answers his greetings quietly and politely. Then she turns to us, giggling.  
“I hope I’m not too late?” she asks, smiling cheekily. The Eye of Ra shakes her head and goes in for a hug. Ra looks over as she throws her arms around her.  
“It’s been so long!” Bastet says. The Eye of Ra’s shoulders shake in amusement and her hands fly in excitement. She becomes a lot more animated when Bastet is here. Bastet, Ra, and Serket can understand sign language. I could never pick it up. Atum makes soft noises of protest next to Ra. 

Now that I look closer at them, Ra appears more relaxed than usual. His posture is less ramrod straight than usual, and he seems to be enjoying sitting next to him. His lips are curved behind the hinged plate of his mask. Are they close? He isn’t this relaxed with me. What does Atum have that I don’t? He’s the worst. Absolutely no redeeming qualities.

Bastet finally breaks away from her hug to talk to me. The Eye of Ra returns to staring into the water. “Seth,” she says, eyes sparkling. “I went to see the chosen one the other day. Isn’t that ju-ust exciting?”   
“Yes, he told me.” She runs her hands through her purple hair in disbelief.   
“Really? How do you know him?”  
“We live together, and we sh-”  
“Anubis and I should totally come to your place again! He was like, so nervous, wouldn’t you know? He was writing his speech for ages and he asked me to be his moral support and isn’t that adorable?” I nod slowly, not knowing when to speak. “Also, why are you living together?” she purrs. “You don’t move on that quickly, do you?” Her elbow digs into my ribs. I yelp, and Ra glances at us. Atum leers, and they resume their friendly silence.

“Bastet, you know we aren’t like that. Ketil’s asexual.” My spear is suddenly interesting. “Besides, I haven’t moved on yet.”

“Oh,” she says. Her smile falters.

Serket takes that moment to arrive. Her skirts swish as she lands. “Hello, Bastet.”   
“Hey,” she drawls. The Eye perks up even more and she begins to sign. Serket raises her eyebrows in interest. I wish I had been able to learn. Bastet translates for me. “We have new visitor, she says.” Her smile is back, but it drops when Atum opens his mouth.

“Can someone call a doctor-” here, Serket frowns, “‘cause I have a case of yellow fever!” Hate, hate, hate. The Eye of Ra rears up, hands clenched into fists. Ra glares at him openly.  
“Just ignore him,” I say. Bastet recoils from me.  
“No! Don’t ignore him! This is harassment! Why is he even here on the boat if he’s just going to be like this?”  
“Seth wanted me here.”  
“You can’t speak to Serket like that!” She pauses, and says softly: “Is that true?”   
“Yes, but I didn’t expect him to be like this to Serket!” That was an almost lie. I expected him to be rude and uncouth and a complete idiot, but not to Serket.  
“Stop. I can speak for myself. We aren’t here to argue, we’re here to fight Apep. That is literally our job. Atum, be quiet.” I am triumphant at this, “Seth, I suggest you take whatever you want with him somewhere else. This entire affair is distracting us.”

When Apep arrives, Atum does fuck all. He sits on his arse on the boat, jeering. From time to time, I hear Ra chuckle. I shout at Apep, yelling at him to answer me and my questions about Ketil: how he knew about him, how he knew about the new reign of darkness, how he knew anything, really. He dodges my questions a lot better than he dodges my spear. Bastet asks to kill him this time, and she does. She flips onto his back, slitting his throat with his claws; it doesn’t bleed, nothing spilling over his scales and into the water. He disappears, as usual.

Bastet giggles. “That was fun!” Serket has an odd expression as Bastet flounces across the boat to me.  “I’ll see you and Ket later, okay?” She fist-bumps me and hugs the Eye of Ra and with that, she leaves the Duat. Atum leaves shortly after.

“You go first,” Serket says. “I have something to go over with Ra.”

I go first, reappearing on the rooftop. One am. Ketil will probably be asleep. 

By the time I get back, Ketil is asleep. I go in through the window, as usual, and see him asleep on the sofa; I smile and get a blanket for him. When I return, blanket in hand, Atum is looming over him. What the hell is he doing here? He can’t just enter our house as he pleases! I promptly tell him that.

Ketil’s phone rings before he can say anything. I answer it, making the universal sign for ‘shut the fuck up’ at Atum.

“Hello? Father Finn? I know it’s late, but you need to get here. There’s an exorcism and we need you.”

I almost have a heart attack. I know that voice: Evie.


	8. Chosen

"Hello? Father Finn? Are you alright?"

I stir in my sleep, my phone's ringtone actually waking me up. I hear Sister Evelyn's angelic, albeit very tired voice through the loud speakers of my phone. Who could've answered? My eyes open instantly. There's only three living creatures in this flat. Seth, Grylá and I. I was sound asleep in bed, and Grylá can't answer the phone because of her stubby paws. Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

Seth's answered a phone call from Sister Evelyn. With the press of a button, Seth turns off the speaker of my phone so he cpuld ave a private conversation.

I open the door of my room enough to see Seth sitting by the balcony of the living room with a cigarette in hand, his lighter about to be used to smoke. I thought he gave that up in secondary school. I'll have to talk to him about this.

"Hi, Evie," he smiles as he responds to her call through the phone and lights up the cigarette and takes a drag. It's vague but I think I can make out what she's saying from the lines Seth replies her.

"Yeah, I haven't seen you in awhile either. Or heard. Well," he chuckles, it seeming a little dull and upset, and he begins to play with his lighter (it's made of metal, kind of expensive and has initials of some sort). "Finn's asleep. You happened to call at an odd moment," he mentions, his body seeming to freeze as he looks out onto the view in front of him. The lights of the flats that are placed strategically for the night owls are left on. The view of Old Oak Common is actually beautiful for once. He has a short conversation with her for the next two minutes (or so) about waking me up for an emergency exorcism somewhere nearby the flat until he takes his last drag. His cigarette butt is pushed against the rail of the balcony and the light of the cigarette goes out.

"Hey, E," he stands up straight over the balcony. He pauses for a moment, "I love you." His voice hitches at the realisation of what he's said, "sorry- I- I- I didn't mean- I didn't mean to say that. It- It just c-came," he stutters. The hand that is holding the lighter is pressed onto the railing tightly as he hears Evie's response, "yeah. Yeah, I'll wake him up. Sorry about that," he pauses as she responds again, "Yeah, okay. Goodnight, E."

Seth hangs up the phone and ruffles his hair tiredly. Just as Seth turns to come back to my room to return my phone I scramble to my feet to get up and go back to bed when-

"AAAAAHHHHH!" I scream on reflex.

"Aaaaahhhhh," this one sounded more... sarcastic.

It's Atum- "KET, ATUM, WHAT THE FUCK? THE NEIGHBOURS ARE GONNA COMPLAIN AGAIN," Seth bursts through the door with a ton of force and switches on the lights. "You've met this guy already so introductions are not important. Sister Evelyn's called. She needs you for an exorcism downtown. It's an emergency," Seth tosses my phone back in my hands and turns to go and change clothes in his room. Atum shakes his head in a brief annoyance at Seth's attitude towards ignoring him.

"Why are you here?" I ask Atum as I stand and face my closet to open it and grab my clothes appropriate for the occasion. Before he could answer, Seth comes in with clothes I've never even seen, let alone washed before, "He has business with me," he says, rolling his eyes, annoyed with Atum's presence in the flat. "What in Mary's name are you wearing, Seth-" my eyes squint.

His clothes are not a sight for sore eyes, oh lord. What on earth is he wearing? It is black, with the symbol of Osiris (even I don't know how I knew this but I just did) at the centre. Not to mention it is skintight. He has a white and black cloak draped over his shoulders, and he is barefoot but the suit is up to half of his foot. I really start to wonder, "How do you pee in that?"

There is an awkward moment of silence before Atum comes in. "Wait, what? He comes strutting in, wearing a skintight suit and you ask how he pees?" He's confused with my question of wonder.

"....I..I really don't know. You just do it," Seth says. I sigh, pressing my forehead to ease the stress I get from all my endless questions, “It's fine. Don't say it. But why are you dressed up?" I ask before I put on my black coat to walk out in the cold night.  
Seth scratches his head before he replies, "We're working again tonight, and it just so happens that where we're going is where you're going." This isn't going anywhere, I know. I put on my coat and walk toward the front door to put on my shoes. "Here, you're probably gonna need this," Atum says as he tosses me the Hand Vacuum. I flinch at the sudden toss and my eyes are shut for a brief moment before I can see what he actually tossed to me. "Why would..," and just like that, they were gone from the flat.

This is really not going anywhere.

I make my way down to the church where Sister Evelyn said she needed me to be. Seth and Atum are still nowhere in sight. Sister Evelyn is waiting outside when she sees me walking towards the front entrance. "Father Finn, it's best not to come through this way," she says, but I question no further and gave her a curt nod of my head. She motions her hands for me to follow her, the back way. "Who's our client tonight, Sister?" I ask. Her back is facing me but I could see that she was awfully happy about something, not about the client who was possessed in the church, obviously, I could tell.

"It's the Martinez's. I believe it's the missus, sir," she tells me, I laugh when she calls me sir. "Evelyn, I'm not that old," I tell her. It's true, after all. She is only 23 and I was 25. We're not that far fetched, actually, she went to school with Seth and me, but Seth was more closer to her than I was. "How's Seth?" Evelyn asks as she tries to open the door with the keys in hand (probably looking for the right one). It is a bit of a shock to me that she would ask me that, especially here. "Why do you ask? But to answer your question, he's fine, I suppose. That guy has a lot of weird things to do," I answered. 

Evelyn pries the door open with her left arm. "I see. It's nothing, just curious, is all," she says. Evelyn opens the door wide for me and I can finally see her face. Her eyes are a little bloodshot and puffy, but she is, nonetheless, happy. I could tell. "You're elated aren't you, Evelyn," I smile. Her cheeks flush a bright red that reaches the tips of her ears (even though I cannot see her ears), and she covers her cheeks to hide the blush that is appearing and almost looking like she wants to yell at me but is interrupted by the same screeching sound I'd heard the other day at the Preston's. Or when that Hand Vacuum emitted that loud screech for no reason.

"Let's make haste, Sister," I say, the briefcase in my hand containing the Hand Vacuum that Atum made me carry. I rush to the confessional. According to Evelyn, Mrs. Martinez (she went alone since her husband had passed and her son was out of the country, to add to that, she had no immediate family to be reached) had been in the church for a confessional with Father Gareth after the evening mass and had an episode whilst doing so. Not being a licensed or ordained minister to exorcise, I was called to the stand. I open the door of the confessional and witness Father Jason Gareth reciting a few words into the- for a lack of a better word- possessed missus. He looks up for a moment and sees me standing by the door and, "Finn! Hurry, help me."

"Bring her- no, it out here," I demand. If a demon can treat me with no respect, then why should I not? Gareth brought her out and Mrs. Martinez’ arms are flailing around in a fit of anger, the sclera of her eyes turned black and her face popping with dark coloured veins. Gareth, alongside Sister Evelyn and Cathy holds Mrs. Martinez down while I bless the Medal of Saint Benedict. I do the sign of the cross, as well as the other three holding her down, "In the name of the Father Almighty, the Son who sacrificed, and the Grace of the Holy Spirit, Amen," I bring out my Bible and took out the small bottle of Holy Water that sat inside the book.

I splash her with a few drops and she screeches in pain, similar to the son of the Prestons. "Vade retro, Satana," I begin with Saint Benedict's prayer. Father Gareth, Sister Evelyn and Cathy all pray in tongues, a language they'd acquired during a Life in the Spirit Seminar, and I continue, "Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proeilo," I splash the Holy Water on Mrs. Martinez, the demon lets out a blood-curdling yell of pain but laughs after that.  
"You know, that doesn't exactly work when your demon friend is a God," Mrs. Martinez- in this case the demon- says in a muffled voice.

"You either live and go back to the depths of the circles of Hell or be banished and never set foot on Earth or Hell, so take your pick and tell me your name," I splash the Holy Water on the demon and it screeches once more, loud enough that I can even see that Mrs. Martinez ripped, yes, ripped, a little. She pushes against the weight of three people holding her down like they weighed nothing, knocking them against the walls and rendering them unconscious and stands up, staggering as she did. She cracks her back as she tried to stand straight; it wasn't easy considering that Mrs. Martinez was elderly and well over her sixties.

Hands on hips, she looks at me dead in the eyes; I hold up the Medal of Saint Benedict. Boy, does it smell like sulphur in this room, it was suffocating. I could barely breathe in here, and this room was the front- the front where Sister Evelyn didn't want me to go through. It was the hall we usually use for daily mass. "Interesting item you have there in that briefcase there," the demon's eyes averted from mine to the briefcase. My eyes slowly averted from the demon to the briefcase. I knew what it was talking about. The Hand Vacuum.

My foot inches towards where I left my briefcase. I intend to protect the Hand Vacuum. I knew what I was held responsible for and I'm not risking another demon to set them free. I'd be the shame of all religions who try to protect themselves against these malicious beings. I jump over. My trousers are covered in dirt from sliding over the floor to get a hold of the briefcase. "You didn't tell me your name. I don't trust strangers touching my things," I say, "especially your kind." The demon walks towards me, steps about three to four long strides and is now approximately about the length of a meter rule away from me.  
"Ouch, racist much," the demon says sarcastically.

"I have no need to tell you my name, nor do you have to tell me yours. Because deep down, you know what my name is, don't you, Ketil," the voice of the demon has chills running down my spine. I open the briefcase, scared or not, and take out the Hand Vacuum. "Hello, Apep," I say. It's surprising, but not very surprising because I somehow know who it was. It probably connected when he said he was a God. "Is this what you're looking for?" I instantly attempt to provoke it with the Hand Vacuum sitting peacefully in the briefcase. Apep's hands freeze as I hold the briefcase case in front of him. He is well aware of what I can do with this.

I see his feet inch towards me and he slowly inches more and more. "I will not hesitate, Apep. I'm not dimwitted," I warn him. He stops in his tracks.  
"No, maybe not for me," his hands by his sides, he retracts a small blade and with his free hand, moves it up in a 'come here' motion with his index finger. The body of Mrs. Martinez is no more, it transforming into another humanoid figure. I don’t know who, but this sure as heck is not Mrs. Martinez. His hair is black, buzzed with patterns and styled in a mohawk; I can't see his eyes as they are covered with a mask, but they're most likely blue from the looks of it. His figure is much leaner than old Mrs. Martinez. A disguise!

His fingers prod an unconscious Evelyn, making her levitate above the ground, lifting her higher and higher above the ground. She was now a pinkie finger away from the high ceiling of the church, "Maybe for her."  
My eyes widen. "Put her down." I try to grab the Hand Vacuum but he starts clicking his tongue,  
"I thought you knew me better than this, Chosen One." I shut my eyes. Did I? I grab hold of the Hand Vacuum, my finger on the button, ready for this to be all over. But what about Evie? Father Gareth and Sister Cathy won’t be able to catch her whether they can or not, I mean, they are not even conscious from impact from when Apep threw them across the room earlier.

Oh boy, am I in a pickle.

Evie, destroying the so called God of chaos to stop whatever he's planned. Evie, God. EVIE, GOD. EVIE. "Take it," I hand it to him, he throws the dagger into the air in Evie’s direction. The tip of the dagger is aimed at her delicate and covered neck. "Hey! I thought we had a deal! Hand Vacuum for Evelyn!?" I fume.  
"What deal?" he laughs, "I didn't say anything about making a deal to trade, no." Scam. He's playing with me and I've just become the shame of religions. What do I do? He's too powerful for me to fend off, even I think I wouldn't be able to beat him, even as a teenager. He has Evie at death point, and the Hand Vacuum, the most important relic I needed to keep safe from the likes of him is now in his hands. Are you joking with yourself, Finn.

His blue (well, that's what I think they are) eyes scan the relic. "Ahhh," he breathes in the smell of the Hand Vacuum and with clicks and hisses of his tongue, he says the original name of the Hand Vacuum. It lets out the same blood-curdling sound it made when I first met Atum after sprinkling it with a dose of Holy Water. He lifts it above his head and looks me in the eye, "I've been waiting for centuries!" That's it. He breaks the Hand Vacuum and it shatters, "No!" I yell, in desperation. I should’ve stopped it before it hit the ground.

My eye hurts.

That's when I see Seth standing on the higher window above the ceiling. "Apep!" Seth yells, enraged. Apep laughs as he turns to meet Seth eye to eye. He really shouldn't have. Seth heaves his spear, one made of lost metal never to be found again, aims and throws. Apep's screech when the spear hits his eye is painful. I feel it. My eye hurts. But my cause was different. A black mass formed around the shattered Hand Vacuum remains. I didn't see it coming, quite literally. It goes in through my mouth. I'm less than pleased to say it went through my mouth. I'm distraught.

Apep's hand grabs the spear that went through his eyes. His concentration on letting Evie levitate above the ground was now gone. She is falling, and I saw it. "SETH! EVIE. CATCH HER, YOU FOOL!" I yell loud enough for him to hear me from up above. He was already on it before I even finished that sentence. He'd landed on the ground hard but Evie had a soft blown impact. Atum is stood where Seth originally was and so is Bastet and a new face. It is a woman in her thirties; her hair is dark and long and she had an ornament of some sort resting on the top of her head.

My eye burns.

I can tell that nothing was going to be the same after this. I scream in pain. My eye hurts. Apep successfully removes the iron spear from his eye and he staggers towards the pillar that held up one part of the church. He groans in agony and disappears, falling through the pillar. There is no blood. The only remains he left behind was probably a handful of sand. That's when I knew, Mrs. Martinez never existed. She was only created to be implanted in our minds and become someone we would know. The memories are erased.

"Look at me, look at me. Breathe, breathe," the woman with the ornament (now I see a scorpion on the top of her head) tells me.  
"Wh... what's.. what's happening to me..?" I ask, my green eye (the one that felt like someone stabbed a billion needles in)  start to sting with tears. She holds out a small bottle, a test tube to be precise, to my emerald eye and collects my tears. I do as she says, my tears stream down uncontrollably. She collects them without question. "You are..  Ketil, yes? I'm Serket, my real name you shall know when the time comes," the woman I now know as Serket says. "Thank you," she thanks, I don't know why. Perhaps for my tears shed.

"E. E? Evie!" Seth starts to lightly tap her on the cheeks. He notices she isn’t breathing because of the sulphur Apep had brought in. "Don't do this to me, E," he starts rummaging in his invisible pockets for something. Nothing.  
"Set, do not panic. This," she holds up the test tube of my tears, "will help. These are Chosen Tears," she says calmly. Her hands gently tipped to the side and one drop of my tear fell to Evie's forehead. Her breath hitched at her throat and her eyes open a little, surprised that she is seeing Seth in front of her, but it's not enough to keep her awake for long talks. Serket walks to both Father Gareth and Sister Cathy and does the same to them.

"What you've done, Chosen One, is quite brave of you," Serket says as she inspects Father Gareth's eye with a ball of light she emitted from her hands. Bastet checks on Sister Cathy with the same method and Atum stands in silence as he watches Seth and Evie. He doesn’t wish to interfere with Seth's relationship with Evie. I stand up slowly, my knees were weak and my eye still burned. "It's hard to say what you've done but it’s obvious," she says to me, although I'm a bit confused what she's trying to drill into my head. Seth held Evie in his arms protectively, but his eyes are towards Serket.

"Hold out your hand, Chosen One," she says. And I do. But my left hand remains on my green eye (which was my left eye) tightly. She recites incantations and swishes her fingers back and forth and creates symbols out of the light she can emit from her hands. I can read it (again, I don't know how, I just could) but I couldn't pronounce it. My right eye averts its gaze to my right palm that is facing towards Serket. A black eye-shaped circled forms in my palm and starts to suck in wind, more like anything that was in my way. She folds my fingers together to stop it from tearing down the church. "This power is yours now, Chosen One. The power of the," it comes in clicks and hisses as she says the original name, "has been given to you. Not by choice but by fate. Trust in it and it will give you the control." Serket smiles. "The Solar Barque's loyalty and trust goes to you. What shall we do now, Chosen One?"

 

 

To say that I'm confused is an understatement. But when I say that I'm freaked out and the holder of the world's somewhat weird but more powerful relic is a complete mistake. But this is just wrong. I shouldn’t be the Chosen One.


	9. the trail

The trail the churchgoers took each day happens to be a very distinct and precise one. I stand outside the wooden doors of the church, telling the usual churchgoers that mass had been cancelled due to the events of last night, hoping they wouldn't question me why. They look at me strangely, it was usually Sister Evelyn who sent out word like this. Not me. I get tired of telling eventually and left a sign outside to inform the news of the cancelled Mass.

I step into the church; the benches were (well, at least half of them) broken in half, splinters threatening to prick skin open. I walk to the pillar, the one where Apep had been cornered. Seth visited earlier. Asked me about it. I'd assume he met Evie a bit earlier, his eyes were a bit red and his cheeks were tinted with the smallest hint of pink. He'd been embarrassed or upset. I couldn't tell the two emotions of his apart.

My hands linger on the dark spot, an ash-coloured smudge left behind. Where Apep had walked into. I glance at the dreadful ring that lay on my forefinger. The emerald crystal was like a reminder of my one green eye. A mockery? Maybe. Perhaps Anubis saw this coming. I walk around the pillar, my fingertips grazing the edges of the dark smudged spot of ash.

That's when I felt it.

The hair on my arms uncovered by my sleeves stand straight as a bolt. The emerald crystal of the Shrouded Ring glows. It hurts. I had seen this coming before. The crystal cracks, and the sound of it doing so is loud. I cannot stand it. My hand, my dominant one. The slit right at the centre of my palm opens slowly, as if it was waking up from a deep slumber. An eye of a navy-blue colour starts to form, the slit that went down the middle of its sclera made itself known that it was a snake's eye. It blinked. Without even realising, I was on my knees.

When the crystal cracks, the pupil of the snake's eye, the slit, dilates at the sound. Its eye (whatever it may be) moves up to where the Shrouded Ring laid on my finger. I can barely get up as it is. My other hand shakes while my dominant one lies still. It pulls me forwards. Towards the ash-coloured smudge on the pillar. My palm is flat against the disturbing pillar. The crystal cracks again. It is the loudest one yet. At the tip of my middle finger, I see light, seeping through a crack, and it seemed to be from the loud sound of the crystal opening itself in half.

I jerk my hand back to my side as fast as a cheetah pouncing on an antelope for food, but it refuses to stay where I'd jerked it back to. I don’t know why, but it is apparent that I'd lost all control to my dominant hand. The tips of my fingers begin to scratch the edges of the tear of light in the pillar. It peels away, and peels and peels and peels. My other hand starts to join in, I cannot say more, as my arms have lost all control. The moment it is large enough for a child to seep through a light, a loud and as strong as a titan pushes me back to my side.

My eyes shut tight and my lips are pressed in a thin line to suppress the scream of pain that is radiating from my somewhat possessed hand. I crawl on my knees, probably something a priest shouldn't be seen doing. My fingers sneakily push past through the force I had to hold it back and nimbly pulls me forward with me on my knees. With my pupils dilated (which was odd, seeing as I was staring right into, well, the light) I pray to God this isn't Hell. And my stomach feels like the flutter of a bird's wings, flying away steadily with its back slightly arched to gain momentum.

My eyes, once shut, open to the feeling of grass on my fingers. Something I haven't felt in a long time. The grass on my fingertips. I jolt at the sudden change in surroundings. Have I finally gone mental? Yes, absolutely. I don’t need a man in a skin-tight suit or a woman with an ornament made out of scorpions lying on her head to tell me that I finally went mental. I'm positive I've gone mad, awhile back, really. Either way around, it still doesn't answer why I've been brought to a meadow. The sky is a bright and light blue, almost like the light I'd seen at the tear in the pillar of the church earlier. Am I mad? Yes, I am. Did I knock out and go to Heaven? No, that was too soon to say. It's a test, I thought, until-

"It's not a test, my child," I hear a voice. "I've simply brought you to my home," it said. Where-? "Here," it answers my call. I was merely confused. I turn, and turn, and turn. "Behind you," it says again, and one more time I twirl on the heel of my Oxford shoes. It is a man. He looks a bit bold, and his jawline is sharp. His eyes are as blue as the sky that I saw a few minutes ago as I entered the meadows on this non-existent plane. Or was it. "It's existing, by the way," he put his hand in the pocket of his grey trousers.

Can he- "Can you not do that? I mean- I don't mean to be rude but- it's an invasive way to come into my thoughts, oh my God-" I gasp tiredly at this, ready to realize once more: I'm mad. "Yes?" he asks me innocently. "What? I don't mean you, I'm talking- oh, I wasn't supposed to say those three words," I stammer.

He folds his hands behind his back, and he presses his lips in a fine line, much like what I did a bit before. He is hesitant, but he holds out his right hand for me to shake, "How do you do? I'm Jehovah."

I stare at him in the heat of the moment, my heterochromatic eyes dilated. As I was told, my eyes widen at the sound of the name. I take his hand and give him a small smile, a little reluctant but I smile, nonetheless. "I d- don't understand wh- What's going on?" I ask him. He lets go of the handshake and ruffles his grey and white hair lightly.

"What's the Egyptian department doing?" I hear him mutter under his breath as he covers his eyes as if he wanted to scream. He slowly looks up again, his eyes directed to the sky and he sighs. "Jehovah, though I have many names, you get the gist, God of Christianity- or the Jews. Whichever, really. You know, the one where I'd sent my son to Earth to rid the world of its sin? That God," he says, shrugging his shoulders casually. This was him? The God we know not of a face, I now know of? "Yes, I told you," Jehovah says casually like I told him with my mouth open.

"Stop reading my mind, I'm processing this," I warned him. At this point, nothing really surprises me.  
"I highly doubt that," he says.  
"Really? Right after I told you not to?"

"I'll bet you ten quid that I'll turn your opinion around," he says playfully and his face expression changes drastically. He looks at me with the blue eyes, which I admit are hypnotising. "Look, I didn't want any harm in this, but something went wrong in the Inter-Dimensional Void. It was your friend... Um, Apep, was it?" He ponders for a second.  
"Not my friend," I stop, "I think he hates me." Jehovah laughs loudly for a moment and shrugs.  
"If I had to say that, I think loathe suits that sentence much better, really." His hands are back in the pockets of his grey trousers again. And he asks me, "We all need a favour. It's important that you do this for us," he says. 

"I hadn't anticipated this day to come earlier than later. My calculations were off for once," he interjects. His right hand rubs the stubble on his chin tirelessly, his wrinkles creased at the top of his forehead. "That Apep has caused me trouble enough for me to send myself to Hell and back, quite literally, darling, to discuss matters. I forged you, Ketil," that's when I realise I never told him my name, "I forged you in the heart of the brightest stars even humans cannot see, Hathor. Placed you in your mother's womb. I was expecting this to come when you were at least in your thirties." I look at Jehovah questioningly, an eyebrow raised.

"The Tenth is broken," he swipes his hand at the space between us. He opens a tear in the centrosphere and revealed an incredible heat, much like the Shrouded Ring tightening on the finger it rested on but add a little peppe, salt with a hint of lemon to rub in the wound. I immediately smell the strong odour of sulphur. "Those," Jehovah stands next to me, and points into the tear, "are the Asphodel Meadows." As soon as my pupils follow the tip of his pointer finger, I see the remains in the tear of space. It is a raging red. The smell of sulphur is tiresome. The flames of an ivory shimmer linger along with the scent of an all too familiar one; demons.

"Why are you showing this to me? I don't even want to ask what's going on with the part of forging me at the heart of a star," I say to him. His right hand, it is covered with wrinkles, rests on my back just between my shoulder blades. My body instantly freezes, as if it senses something going on. "Look kid, I tried to alter time for you," he says slowly, which makes me just want to back up carefully, "To help you," he continues, "but it was a prophecy and it is my sole duty to do this for the sake of Creation."

With a nudge of that old wrinkled right palm, I'm pushed into the Asphodel Meadows without my own consent.

*

I fall. I land with a loud thudding sound. "I'm doing this for the sake of humanity, but please close the Tenth Circle!" Jehovah yells, he was way above me, by the tear, he'd refuse to come down here to tell me this. I glare at him, "I knew you were bad news! What the literal, I don't even want to care anymore considering you're the great God everyone is talking about on Earth, WHAT THE LITERAL HELL, GOD?" Jehovah shuts his eye for a moment, his lips pressed into the finest line as he was feeling a bit speechless. "Didn't expect that coming, honestly, much less from you, young boy-o," he confesses. I realise that was the first time I swore in years. "Doesn't matter. All is forgiven," he smiles. It is a Duchenne smile, crinkling the crows' feet at the sides of his eyes. The smile was so genuine, Hell would be burning in brightness for years on end. "Don't get lost, and should you do so, I'll provide a guide. Just follow the path," he says. His hands swish in a motion too fast for me to explain and a path of light appears. "That's your path. Don't stray. Should you stray from the path of light, you'll immediately be consumed by the depths of the Asphodel Meadows. Good luck, and good riddance." He clicks his tongue sharply, snaps his finger and winks. With that, he disappears along with the tear in the non-existent plane.

What in hell am I supposed to do here on out?

*

I follow the trail of the light Jehovah had provided me. I am wary of how small the trail is and how I could be easily submerged into the finest bits of Hell itself. I really don't want to know what will happen to me when I reach the dead end. Better yet, what will happen if I don't make it at all or if I were to stray from the trail he'd set. This is it. My death. I always thought I'd die during an exorcism but ever since Seth came to me as the vessel of an Egyptian god? Haha, my life is open to any chance possible. How open is this array of chances? I hope I don't see the Death God on the way. That would be the death of me if I do.

"You are human?" I hear from behind me. No one can come behind me, I am sure of it, so I freeze on the spot. "You are human," it says again, confirming its own question. My stiff neck comes to turn properly, but slowly, as if it is aware of what will happen if I turn. And once more, for the people in the cheap seats, I might die. But at least it won't be in my own home. "A-hah," it grins. The smile is not genuine. I take a glance at the trail that is behind me. The trail that is not behind me, on second thought. It had disappeared as I walked along the trail. I am inches away from disaster. "What do you seek down here, human? Is it money? Love? A heartfelt poet, perhaps?" The creature almost laughs.

The creature is not a pretty sight to stare at. The skull of a wild boar, the horns of a ram, hooves like a horse's for feet, and fingers of a skeleton... from a three-fingered animal of some sort. The body is covered in a black mass that flows around his body, much like Seth's so-called uniform. Its eyes are barren, and clearly, anyone can see he is a bit agitated to discover me. "You are in a binding contract. Jehovah," he hisses.

"So, you know Jehovah?" I start to turn when he began to ask questions.

"That entity is not a good person," the creature says.  
"Says the guy who looks like he has all the character and charm of a bucket of cold vomit. My mother would scream looking at you," I glance behind me, feeling horrid that I said that. He was probably born like that, but he hadn't a clue how to change his appearance. I didn't mean it. Who am I kidding? My past self isn't going to come back now. Not now.

"Sorry," I apologise, when I realise what I said could have harmed his feelings.  
The face of the boar skull smiles awkwardly, "You are a good human." My stomach churns in an awkward demeanour at the demented smile he sends to me.  
"Why do you choose to approach me, boar?" I ask. My feet move forward, and I hope he tags along as I walk the trail to the Tenth Circle. I hope he does.  
"You seemed like you didn't belong here," it said, voice laced with a rasp so close to a sore throat. "The humans here are a bit," he pauses, which makes me look behind me again, "what you would call evil. There's another word for it but I can never seem to find it on the tip of my fingers." The boar's three fingers shape the chin, and the mass surrounding it looked ready to attack me in some way. He hums.

His right hand comes towards me, attempting to touch me, "I wouldn't do that if I were you," I warn the boar. His hand halts at my words. "By Morningstar's name, it's you," the boar hisses. I don't wish to hear the rest of it, so I hurry along the line, making my way to out-walk the boar behind me. It dawns upon me that he was a demon, and I remember. This is Hell, I remember. I'm not in my own comfort zone, I know. Somehow, I just knew he'd come up to me, attempt to belittle me and go- "You are the Chosen One, yes?"

I sigh, ruffling my hair, frustrated. That is a phrase I’ve started to find annoying, "Jehovah! Stop calling me that!" I yell. The boar gives me the demented smile once more. I'm not ready to see what happens if he manages to come through the barrier of light before me. "My apologies, dearie. I just think your head would suit my non-existent one," he says, as he begin to lift the skull of the boar that rested on his human-like neck. I start to stammer at his actions trying to stop him from doing what he's doing. When he achieves what he wanted to do, all my eyes can witness is a partially-human-horse-three-fingered being with the skull of a boar who grew the horns of a ram atop it's head tucked beneath its arms.

It's head was non-existent. I could see. The black mass that surrounded his body covered his neck, as if to hide shame. "It's my punishment. I've done some bad mojo, Chosen One. So the Devil decided I lose my head. Yours looked delightful, I thought I could rob it off of you. But I see his path has given you a safe passage to somewhere, so I'm not obliged to touch you," the boar explains. I gave him a look. Not one of sympathy, or digust. Just a certain look. One he knew what I meant. "May I follow you?" the boar asks. I sigh. He knew where I was, anyway. Why bother trying to shake him off when I know I could gain a follower, even in Hell. "Yes, you may," I said at first, the boar put his skull back on. He looked elated. "But," I started, and he groaned, "you are not to touch my personal space," I motioned my hands around the space that the path gave me. He sighs, "Alright."

"What's your name?" I asked the boar. He looked at me. Did I forget to introduce myself? I think I did. "I'm Ketil," I said to conquer my train of thoughts. He first tried to put his three fingers out for me to shake, but remembered the barrier between us. Right.

 

"Jehavi."


End file.
